Drabbles
by dracosoftie
Summary: I'm in the mood to write drabbles to celebrate my return to the fandom. Who wants to play? Give me a prompt, any old prompt, and I'll write up to 300 words. Rated M for the possibility of mature content in some of the drabbles.
1. Jaunty

***

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

***

I'm in the mood to write drabbles. Who wants to play? Give me a prompt, any old prompt, and I'll do a 250 word drabble. ScarletQuill and FaeryQueen07 [http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5669633/1/] are playing along, too.

***

**Prompt: Jaunty**

"It says it means 'having a buoyant or self-confident air or being crisp and dapper in appearance,'" Harry read, looking up with a frown.

Ron made an impatient motion, and Harry sighed, opening the dictionary again.

"'Dapper: Neatly or stylishly dressed,'" Harry read dutifully, flipping toward the front when he was done. "'Buoyant: Lighthearted or gay.'"

Ron's cheeks reddened, his hands fisting at his sides.

"See? I _told_ you Malfoy was taking the piss when he called my jumper jaunty!" he cried, glaring at the blond sitting next to Harry. "Smug git. It was his way of calling me a bloody poofter!"

Harry stared at his friend for a few seconds, marveling at the redhead's stupidity.

"Weasley," Draco drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "I am, as you so eloquently put it, a 'poofter'. As is Harry. We are, in fact, 'poofters' together."

Ron squeaked out a quiet apology, his blush darkening. He picked at a loose thread on his natty, worn-out jumper, studying it carefully.

"So you really think my jumper is jaunty?" he asked, looking up.

Draco rolled his eyes, shoving the heavy dictionary back into Harry's hands.

"This time, look up sarcasm."


	2. Sri Lanka

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em.

Thanks to Chi.Z.B for the prompt. You thought you'd stumped me, didn't you, my friend? I say, bring it! *grins*

***

**Prompt: Sri Lanka**

"He can't come to the Floo right now," Harry said, his body angled to block Lucius' view of the room.

"Mr. Potter," Lucius sneered, managing to look intimidating even rendered in green flame. "I know he is at home. Narcissa returned to the Manor not ten minutes ago after having tea with him at your residence."

Harry looked over his shoulder and then back into the Floo.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but he's indisposed."

The lie might have worked, had Draco not chosen that moment to shout out gleefully: "Sri Lanka!"

Lucius fixed Harry with a murderous glare, clearly having heard his son's exclamation.

"He is clearly at home and not indisposed. Kindly fetch my son _now._"

Harry sighed, shaking his head. He'd rather face the wrath of Lucius than the wrath of Draco, who had not only been trained at his father's knee in the art of grudge-holding but also had regular access to Harry's tender bits.

"I can't, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said. "_Mastermind_ is on."

"_Mastermind_?" Lucius asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"Yes, sir. The Muggle quiz show? Draco never misses an episode," Harry answered, cringing when Lucius' eye twitched. "Shall I have him ring your Floo when it's over?"

Lucius regarded him coolly for a moment, finally inclining his head in a curt nod.

"Do," he said, hesitating slightly. "But not until _The Weakest Link_ is over at eight."

Harry was left blinking owlishly at the empty Floo, trying to envision Lucius Malfoy calling out answers to a Muggle game show, just like his son.


	3. Cookies

***

See disclaimer in chapter 1. I own nothing.

Thanks to BeLllxiEs for the prompt. I'm not sure if you meant it to be one or not, but my fellow partners in crime (FaeryQueen07 [http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5669633/2] and ScarletQuill, who are both drabbling along on their own pages) were instantly inspired by it. *grins*

***

**Prompt: Cookies**

Harry woke to the sound of banging. He tried to ignore it, but the sound just kept getting louder.

"Do you hear that?" he murmured, burying his face in Draco's soft hair.

"G'way," Draco muttered, shoving at Harry.

Harry sighed, throwing back the duvet and shivering violently. The Burrow was always beastly cold this time of year, though Harry didn't know why the Weasleys didn't just pay to reinforce the Heating Charms on the rickety old place – they could certainly afford it now that Mr. Weasley was the Undersecretary of the Interior for the Ministry of Magic.

Grabbing the heavy robe and slippers he only used when staying over at the Burrow, Harry hurried down the creaking stairs toward the sound of the still-persistent banging, wand drawn in the unlikely event of attack.

His anxiety melted into a wave of relief, then confusion, as he saw the source of the sound. Lit by the eerie glow of the fairy lights that decorated the Christmas tree, he could see Mr. Weasley's shadowy profile. It looked like he was using a spatula to repeatedly smack the side of the Muggle computer that Harry and Draco had given him earlier that day.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry whispered, edging closer.

"Harry my boy, just in time!" Mr. Weasley said jovially, waving the spatula in his direction.

Harry frowned, peering around Mr. Weasley's shoulder to see what he was talking about. A message box flashed on the screen.

_Expunge all cookies? _

The banging started in earnest again, and Harry glanced over, watching Mr. Weasley attack the CPU with his spatula.

"You didn't tell me this wonderful Muggle device baked sweets, too! Just trying to figure out how they come out."


	4. Glamour

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. If I owned them, the Deathly Hallows epilogue would have been *so* different.

This prompt is from ScarletQuill [http:// kathrynmichele . livejournal . com/]. She and FaeryQueen07 [http://www. Fanfiction .net/u/1764684/FaeryQueen07] are doing a drabble challenge with me. They're both writing in other fandoms, FYI. Check 'em out!

Oh, and this one's NC-17, folks. Fair warning.

***

**Prompt: Glamour**

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet wrapped tightly around his torso. The room was dark save for the sliver of light spilling out of the mostly closed bathroom door. The sound of running water broke the heavy silence, and seconds later the light went off and Draco slunk back into the room, collapsing heavily on the bed with a groan.

"Draco, what on earth possessed you to even _try _that?" Harry asked, his body still painfully aroused despite what had just happened.

"It's supposed to be amazing," Draco complained, voice a bit hoarse from his earlier botched ministrations. "Most men supposedly find it sexy."

"Yes, it's _so_ sexy when the man giving me a blow job gags and has to run off to the loo to sick up!"

Draco growled something unintelligible, leaning past Harry to grab a magazine off the nightstand, which he promptly tossed into Harry's sheet-covered lap.

Harry shot him a censorious look and turned on the light, feeling some satisfaction when the sudden brightness made Draco cover his eyes and scowl.

"'10 Ways to Blow Him _and_ His Mind,'" Harry read, his tone dripping condescension. "Written by, ah yes, a Miss Charity Atwood. Because a _woman_ would know so much about what makes a good blow job. Honestly, Draco. You should have _known_ that was anatomically impossible! First thing tomorrow, I'm canceling your subscription to _Glamour_."

Draco leaned over, recovered enough from his mishap to have regained the playful spark in his grey eyes.

"You won't say that after we try number seven."

Harry scanned the list, his eyes widening.

"Fine," he said, tossing the magazine aside and dousing the light. "If _that_ works, I suppose you can keep your subscription."


	5. Diapers

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Thanks to Erika for the prompt! This is another in the Drabble Challenge with ScarletQuill [http:// kathrynmichele . livejournal . com/] and FaeryQueen07 [http://www. Fanfiction .net/s/5671233/1/] , so check out the way they interpreted the prompt, too!

***

**Prompt: Diapers**

Draco loved Harry.

He loved Harry so much that he'd agreed, albeit grudgingly, to be left alone – alone! – to babysit not one but _two_ Weasley children. Time he'd spent being screamed at, spit up on and generally abused.

His ears perked at the whoosh of the Floo, though Draco darkly mused that it was a small miracle he'd been able to hear it. The house had been quiet since he'd managed to get Rose down for her nap, but he hadn't been positive that the prolonged exposure to the shrieking, crying and whinging he'd been subjected to hadn't simply rendered him deaf.

He hefted the rosy-cheeked baby over his head, making a silly face before fluttering kisses across soft skin. It wasn't that he didn't love Rose and Hugo. He did. He just didn't love being with them for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Footsteps rang out on the stairs, and Draco smirked when Harry cursed softly as he tripped over the toys Rose had left on the landing. A few moments later, a dark head peeked around the corner of the make-shift nursery where the children stayed when Ron and Hermione were away.

"We ran out of diapers," Draco said sweetly, handing the sticky, messy child wrapped in a voluminous swath of crimson fabric to Harry.

Harry took the proffered child with an amused look, tucking the gurgling baby into the crook of his arm with practiced ease.

"Hermione and Ron left an entire box. Hugo couldn't possibly have gone through – hey!" he cried, finally noticing what Draco had used in place of a diaper. "That's my Gryffindor scarf!"

Yes, Draco loved Harry. But that didn't mean he'd become a _total_ pushover.


	6. Verdant

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I own nothing.

Thanks to ChibiItachi-chan for the prompt!

***

**Prompt: Verdant**

"Ver-Verd-Vor–" Neville looked from the spellbook to the sickly plant in front of him, his face a mask of concentration. "Vir– no, blast. Vor-vire–"

"_Verdoier_," Draco cast, waving his wand negligently. The leaves immediately greened, the withered stalks plumping as the spell wound around the plant.

"He almost had it," Harry snapped, canceling Draco's spell and returning the plant to its previous state. "He has to be able to do this on the practical or he won't be accepted into the program."

Draco rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his newspaper. Harry and Neville had been working on a list of spells that were prerequisites for a prestigious French Herbology mastery program, and Draco was losing patience with their absolute butchery of the French language.

"What does it mean, anyway? Grow?" Harry asked, squinting at the parchment in front of him.

Draco drew his wand again, casting the spell at Neville without even looking up. Harry squawked in indignation when the other man's hair turned bright green.

"It means verdant. As in green," Draco drawled, turning a page of the paper with exaggerated care.

"Fix it!" Harry demanded, slapping the paper out of Draco's hands.

"_Le vert est mieux que son brun de souris normales,_" Draco muttered.

"It is not. And my hair is _not_ mousy brown, Malfoy!" Neville cried, his arms folded angrily across his chest.

"You don't speak enough French to cast the bloody spells, but _that_ you understood?" Draco muttered darkly, caving to the heat of Harry's glare and returning the man's hair to its natural color. "_Crétin_."


	7. Squeeze, Rentboy

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I'm not JKR.

Thanks to the lovely Bets for the prompt. Well, one of them. The other came up in a conversation with Fae. Heart you both! (check out FaeryQueen07's drabble for the same prompt at http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5679476/3)

***

**Prompts: Squeeze, rent-boy**

"Prat."

"Idiot."

"Bigoted arse."

"Ill-mannered oaf."

"Rent-boy."

Draco laughed.

"You're sitting on _my_ sofa, eating food _my_ house-elf made, drinking whisky _I_ paid for, Weasel, so who's the rent-boy here? Shall I run you a tab?"

"Oi, enough," Harry said quickly, stepping between the two men before the relatively good-natured argument could take a turn for the worse. Ron and Draco got on most of the time, but they still tended to grate on each other's nerves, like now. How an argument about Muggle alcohol had devolved into name-calling so quickly was a mystery to him.

"I'm going to go get some more crisps," he said, shaking his head. He was getting tired of refereeing their fights. "Just work it out, OK?"

He took his time in the kitchen, keeping an ear out for hexes, hoping the two men would find a way to resolve their bickering without him. They had to learn sometime. What was the worst that could happen, anyway?

"That's right, Weasley. Just give it a squeeze, just like that. No, don't stop. It will fit, you just have to press harder. Look, it's not like you can hurt it. Just shove it in."

The words had him dropping the bag of crisps and running for the sitting room. He skidded to a halt in the doorway, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight that greeted him.

"I'll be damned," Ron said, staring at the bottle of Corona – with a wedge of lime squeezed into its neck – in his hands. "You're right, Malfoy. Muggle beer _is_ good."


	8. Lion King, KoolAid

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. They aren't mine.

Thanks to Bets (again!) for the prompt, as well as Boekwurm for one as well. The list is so long I'm trying to double up where possible. FaeryQueen07 took on this challenge, too. See her NCIS:Los Angeles themed drabble at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5679476/4.

***

**Prompts: Kool-Aid, Lion King**

Harry slunk down in his seat, wishing he was just about anywhere other than the crowded, hot theater. Next to him, Victoire, Rose and Teddy, his brightly hued hair tucked under a baseball cap to remain inconspicuous, bopped along happily.

He glanced down at his watch. Only twenty minutes in, and he was already ready to cast _Silencio_ over the entire bloody stage. He'd been absolutely daft to volunteer for this.

Harry slid his hand into his sleeve, fingering the wand he kept holstered there. Surely there must be some sort of modified Silencing Charm that worked like Muggle ear plugs. He shifted in his uncomfortable seat, wishing for the first time that he'd paid more attention in Flitwick's Charms class.

He hadn't chanced a glance over at Draco since they'd arrived, positive the blond would be glaring daggers at him. Hermione and Ron had been planning to take the kids, but Hugo had gotten sick at the last minute and Hermione had stayed home with him. Harry had agreed to take her place so Ron didn't have to venture out into Muggle London alone with the kids, and they'd both been shocked when Draco said he'd come, too. Harry was sure he was regretting it now.

"It's the Ciiiiiircle of Liiiiife," the ridiculously dressed woman on stage warbled, making Harry cringe. He looked over, his jaw dropping in shock when he saw Draco's cashmere clad shoulders moving along to the beat, his mouth open as he sang along.

"You won't believe this," Harry whispered, turning to his other side to nudge Ron so they could both laugh at him. Instead, he caught Ron singing along, too.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, slinking even lower in his seat. "Am I the only one who _didn't_ drink the Kool-Aid?"


	9. Daffodils, bloomers

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I own nothing.

Last prompt from Bets. And then FaeryQueen07 and I are going to start using a random list generator to mine through the rest of the prompts. Promise. No more cherry picking the drabble prompts! *smirks unrepentantly* Read FaeryQueen07's response to the same prompt (in the Sherlock Holmes fandom) here: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5669633/3/

***

**Prompts: Daffodil, bloomers**

"Malfoy, wait!"

Draco turned, his eyes widening in shock as Neville grabbed him by the lapel of his dress robes. Before he could shove the other man away, Neville deftly unfastened the corsage that Pansy had placed in his buttonhole just moments before.

"What a bitch," Neville growled, waving his wand over the solitary daffodil and replicating it. He twined the stem of the second flower, a perfect match in color and size to the first, around the pin, artfully arranging them.

Draco gaped at him, shocked both to hear the normally timid Neville speak ill of someone as well as to see him perform a spell, and a nonverbal one at that, flawlessly.

"The Institute is serving you well, I see," Draco said, nodding in approval as Neville re-pinned the corsage to his chest.

"Lucky for you," Neville replied with an uncharacteristically confident smirk. "Did you even look at what she put on you? A single daffodil, traditionally symbolic of misfortune."

Draco's brow furrowed as he looked down at the twin daffodils that now adorned his chest. He and Harry had been together for years, but apparently Pansy had still held out hope that, since they had never bonded, she still had a chance with Draco. Until today, of course.

"More than one daffodil bunched together symbolizes joy and happiness," Neville assured him, clapping him warmly on the shoulder. "Now get down there and make an honest man out of him."

Draco paused, surprising both of them by wrapping Neville in a warm hug before stepping back on the velvet aisle runner that would lead him down to the altar.

"France really has done wonders for you. You're one of those of a late bloomers, aren't you, Neville Longbottom?" Draco murmured, winking at him. "Well done."


	10. Life saver

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I love them and spend most of my free time writing about 'em, but they aren't mine.

Thanks to KimmiGirl for the prompt. I know it's not how you wanted it used, but what can I say? I'm a slave to the bunnies. Read FaeryQueen07's response (in the Sherlock Holmes fandom) to the same prompt here: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5669633/3

***

**Prompt: Life saver**

Draco smoothed a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, leading an almost-hysterical Hermione down the corridor to his potions lab.

"I don't have any brewed – topical potions don't have much of a shelf life – but I can throw together a cauldron of it for you in about ten minutes," he said, already grabbing ingredients from his stores.

"Thank you," she said, looking miserable. "I didn't know where else to go. This is so embarrassing, and it's so late – really, thank you."

Silence hung heavily in the small room, disturbed only by the sound of Draco's glass stirrer scraping the bottom of the metal cauldron. He added the last of the ingredients, leaning lazily against the counter.

"Seven minutes, then it's done," he said, his grey eyes sparkling.

A few more beats of silence passed before Hermione finally broke down under his expectant gaze.

"Oh, fine," she said, pulling a rumpled magazine page out of her dressing gown pocket. "Go ahead, I know you're dying to know. We tried number seven."

Draco glanced at the article, noting the familiar headline and nodding sagely.

"Let me guess. You didn't have wintergreen life savers, so you used cinnamon flavored instead?"

She shrugged. They had been cinnamon Tic Tacs, but she hadn't seen how the substitution would hurt, and she told him as much.

He shot her a wry look, glancing over at the Skin Soothing potion bubbling away in his cauldron.

"Alright, cinnamon was a bad choice. But it probably wouldn't have worked even with the wintergreen. You can't trust these magazine articles," she sniffed, shoving it back into her pocket.

"Oh believe me, you can," Draco purred, winking at her before decanting the now-cooled potion into a phial. "Now, number three? Not so much. But number seven? Trust me, it works."


	11. Punishment

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Check out FaeryQueen07's drabble from the same prompt in the NCIS: Los Angeles fandom. http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5679476/5/

So, you know how some of these have been pretty tame? This one? Not so much. A few reviewers thought Draco deserved to be punished for the Diaper drabble, and FaeryQueen07 agreed.

WARNING: Explicit sexual scenes and slash in this drabble.

***

**Prompt: Punishment**

Draco groaned, the sound muffled by the crimson scarf that was wrapped around his mouth. He stretched slightly, testing the soft ropes Harry had Conjured earlier when he'd tied him to the bed before abandoning him.

The blond growled angrily the moment the door opened, signifying Harry's return. His threats were lost in the thick woolen scarf. Despite the fact that a Gryffindor had tied it on him, he had to admit the gesture – and the revenge it signified – was surprisingly Slytherin.

"Your punishment's not over," Harry murmured, shedding his clothes as he moved toward the bed. Draco eyed him hungrily, his gaze falling on Harry's bobbing erection.

He stiffened when Harry produced something from behind his back, his mouth going dry as a torrent of emotions rushed through him: humiliation, fear, lust. Harry paused, green eyes locking on grey, silently asking permission for what he was about to do.

Draco nodded, his muscles tensing. They'd not done this before, but it was something he'd told Harry he wanted to try once, years ago when their relationship had still been new enough for them to giddily confide their deepest secrets and desires. At the time he'd thought the dark-haired man had been appalled, but the glint in Harry's green eyes clearly showcased his interest.

The thwack of silicone against skin rang through the silent room, and Draco bit down on the scarf bunched in his mouth, holding back a hoarse cry. Harry looked startled, his arm hesitating in mid-air, hovering over reddening skin.

Draco spit out the scarf, writhing against his bonds as the sharp pain quickly faded to a pleasant, lingering ache that seemed directly connected to his cock.

"Again," he rasped, desperate for more. "Please, Harry."

Concern abated, Harry obliged.


	12. Spatula

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I own nothing.

Thanks to Helen for the prompt! See how FaeryQueen07 interpreted the same on (in the NCIS Los Angeles fandom) here: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5671233/2/

***

**Prompt: Spatula**

"But why is it OK for adults to do that in their bedrooms, but not kids?"

Hermione nearly swallowed her tongue at the words drifting through the half-open bedroom door. Her hand froze, hovering just above the doorknob. She'd never had cause to worry before, but if _those_ were the kind of conversations her children were having while they were here, perhaps she needed to re-think using Harry and Draco as her babysitters whenever she needed to go out. She leaned closer, trying to hear Draco's response.

"Are you still here? I thought you were in a hurry. Wasn't Rose ready?" Harry asked as he walked up behind her, making Hermione jump guiltily.

She turned, and his brow furrowed when he saw how pale her face was.

"Hermione! What's wrong?"

"Draco's in there –"

The door opened, startling both of them. Draco walked out, an arm slung over Rose's shoulders as they laughed about something.

"Draco's in there what?" Harry asked, confused.

"We were talking about grown-up things," Rose confided, almost preening under her uncle's attention.

Bright spots of color appeared on Hermione's pale cheeks, and Draco rushed to explain.

"Rosie wanted to know why it's alright for adults to eat in their bedrooms when she and Hugo aren't allowed to," he said, shooting Harry a slightly panicked look.

"What?" Hermione squeaked, relief coursing through her when she realized they hadn't been talking about sex. "How in the world did that even come up?"

"Oh, er, well –" Draco hedged, his cheeks flushing when Rose pushed the bedroom door completely open.

"Uncle Harry sent me to find his shoes, and I saw that," she said, pointing at something on the nightstand.

Hermione followed her daughter's gaze, her own blush returning in full force.

"Is that a _spatula_?"


	13. Family, I love you

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't say I own them, you don't sue.

Thanks to SeulWolfe for the prompt. And FaeryQueen07, who added the complication of the second part. */sarcasm* Check out her drabble for the same prompt in the Sherlock Holmes fandom at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5669633/5/Sherlock_Holmes_Drabbles

***

**Prompts: Family, first time saying 'I love you'**

"… like several other members of the Chytridiomycota phylum, the fungi in this family are useful in …"

Draco nudged a drowsing Harry, startling him awake.

"Thanks," Harry mouthed, rubbing his eyes.

They were in Paris for the weekend, presumably to support Neville as he presented his dissertation but really because Harry had never been and Draco had been appalled that he'd never thought to take him before.

By the time Neville's presentation was over, Harry's arse was numb and his eyes glazed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Draco cupped his elbow, urging him up out of the chair.

"He's doing his defense now," Draco murmured. "Only master Herbologists can stay for this part."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Harry whispered.

Draco stifled a laugh, pulling him to the designated Apparation point down the corridor.

"Let's go sightseeing," he said, barely giving Harry time to blink before Side-Along Apparating him.

Harry looked down the moment they arrived, panicking when he realized they were literally standing on thin air. Though the ground under his feet felt solid, they seemed to be suspended hundreds of meters above the city of Paris.

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" he shrieked, ripping his hand out of Draco's as he recoiled in terror.

"Calm down," Draco laughed, grabbing his hand again. "We're on top of the Eiffel Tower. The Wizarding section." He stomped his foot against the transparent barrier that held them up. "Safe. See?"

Pulse still racing, Harry chanced another look down.

"It's like flying," he breathed. "I feel like my heart's in my stomach."

"Sorry, but you don't get the full effect if you're expecting it beforehand," Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around Harry. "Besides, I owed you one. That's exactly how I felt the first time you told me you loved me."


	14. Jaguar

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Thanks to Nerhe for the photo prompt, which I'm combining with the prompt from terranboy.

***

**Prompts: Jaguar, Photo (and tagline) at: ****http://bit . ly/5hIunq** [No worries, it's work safe! Don't forget to remove the spaces.]

"Oh, come on! Her costume will be fine without me. Besides, why can't _you_ do it?"

"You know why, Draco. They're going trick-or-treating in a Muggle neighborhood. Do you not think seeing a jaguar would, perhaps, _scare the Muggles_?"

"I thought that was the point of dressing up in ridiculous costumes – to scare people," Draco huffed.

Harry fixed him with a warning glare, green eyes flashing as he hurried to the other room to answer the Floo.

"Uncle Draco!" Rose whined the moment she stepped into the sitting room, practically swimming in an over-sized white lab coat emblazoned with the name Dr. Weasley, veterinarian. "You're not wearing your fur."

Draco opened his mouth to tell her he'd changed his mind, but Hugo toddled in a second later, lower lip wobbling when he saw his uncles standing there instead of the animals he'd been expecting.

"No kitties?" he asked, his voice sad.

Harry shot Draco a dark look, immediately transforming into his Animagus form to appease his nephew. Hugo giggled in delight, sinking pudgy hands into the jaguar's sleek fur.

"Oh, for – fine," Draco growled. He looked over Rose's shoulder at Ron, who hadn't yet seen the Animagus form he'd only managed to finally attain a few weeks earlier. "But you say one word – _one word, Weasley_ – and I'm transforming back."

Ron gave him a baffled look, unsure of why Draco thought he'd tease him. Achieving the transformation was something to be proud of.

Seconds later, a small, furry kitten stood where the blond had been moments before. Ron stared at it, dumbfounded, before dissolving into hysterical laughter.

"Malfoy, you're –" Draco pounced, sinking sharp teeth into Ron's leg.

"Oh, Uncle Draco!" Rose gushed, stooping to pick up the growling kitten. "You have orange hair, just like me!"

**Author's note:** It really is funnier if you look at the picture in the link. Honest. *grins*


	15. Peanut butter

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. None of this is mine. *sobs*

Thanks to Bets for the prompt. Even though the list is up over 60 prompts, we keep taking hers because … well, because she's our prompt pimp. *loves*

Check out FaeryQueen07's response to the same prompt at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5684115/1/

***

**Prompt: Peanut butter**

Harry chewed, forcing himself to swallow the bite of the disgustingly mushy meat substitute. Hermione had called it Tofurky.

"It's, ah, interesting," he said, taking a pull of his beer to chase the taste away.

Hermione had been on a health kick lately, insisting everything she and Ron ate be low in fat. Sugar had been outright banned, and poor Ron hadn't eaten a single bite of meat in three weeks.

"It's soy. Very healthy," Hermione said.

"Love it," Ron croaked, shuddering slightly as he swallowed.

"It's fantastic," Draco agreed, smiling sweetly and surreptitiously Banishing bites from his fork when Hermione wasn't looking.

Harry glared at him, knowing full well what the blond was doing. Draco found the entire situation to be uproariously funny, and he did everything he could to bolster Hermione's commitment to the new diet. Every time she wavered, he was there to encourage her. He'd even suggested the Tofurky. That his gleeful support had nothing to do with concern for their health and everything to do with Ron's suffering was apparently lost on Hermione.

Hugo knocked over his milk, sending Ron and Hermione into a flurry of motion.

"I'll go get him some more," Draco offered, pushing back his chair and hastening to the kitchen.

"I'll help," Harry said, tearing after him.

The dark-haired man snuck into the kitchen, startling Draco, who had pulled a jar of peanut butter from his robes and was eating it with a spoon.

"Really, Draco?" Harry tsked, shaking his head.

Draco shrugged.

"We're going to be here all evening. I didn't want to go hungry," he said, licking the spoon defiantly.

"What's taking so – is that peanut butter?" Hermione asked, eyeing the jar. She closed the kitchen door and hurried over. "Thank _God. _Budge over and give me a spoon_."_


	16. Stuffed puppy, babysitting

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Thanks to luna4917 and writing bird (though yours was unintentional, I think! *winks*) for the prompts.

See how FaeryQueen07 interpreted the same prompts in the NCIS Los Angeles fandom at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5671233/3/

***

**Prompts: Stuffed puppy, babysitting **

"And they had a stuffed puppy!"

"Oh, you mean a toy puppy, Rosie?" he asked, taking a sip of his scalding hot tea.

Draco's parents had surprised everyone by asking to babysit Rose and Hugo for an afternoon. Harry had picked them up twenty minutes ago, and both children seemed no worse for the wear. In fact, Rose couldn't stop gushing about how much fun she'd had.

"No, it wasn't a _toy_. It was _stuffed. _Like the animals at the museum. But then the puppy tried to eat Hugo, but the pretty lady –"

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry corrected.

Rose rolled her eyes, looking so much like Hermione that Harry almost laughed.

"_Mrs. Malfoy_ made the tall ma- _Mr. Malfoy_ wave his wand at it, and it stopped moving."

Harry nodded, half-listening to her babble as he scanned the Quidditch scores.

"He was mad, but she said that's what he got for making a dog into an infinity."

Harry looked up, perplexed. Rose was a bright child and he normally had no problem understanding her, but he had no idea what she was trying to say.

"An infinity?"

She nodded solemnly, her small hand darting out to steal a chocolate biscuit from Harry's plate.

"An infinity," she said matter-of-factly. "Like in _Dead Army: Final Revenge."_

"Where did you even hear about that film, Rosie?" he asked, sure that Hermione would never have let her daughter watch such a gruesome movie.

"Teddy," she said, shrugging.

Harry shook his head. He doubted Hermione would like to hear _that._

"What does infinity have to do with that, anyway? The movie is about –"

Harry broke off, eyes widening in horror as realization set in.

"Draco Malfoy!" he screamed, startling Rose and sending Draco running into the kitchen. "Your father has an _Inferi_ puppy?!"


	17. Rubber duck

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em.

Thanks to Krystaluvstwilight for the prompt!

Go check out how FaeryQueen07 interpreted the same prompt at http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5671233/6/. Also, Digitallace (http://www . fanfiction . net/u/1588161/Digitallace) is now drabbling along with us. It's a drabble revolution!

WARNING: This one's NC-17, folks

***

**Prompt: Rubber duck**

"God, yes," Harry groaned against Draco's lips, frotting against him as they struggled to remove their shirts.

"So fucking hot," Draco gasped, shaking one arm free of the restrictive fabric and immediately wrapping it around Harry's half-naked torso, pulling them even closer together.

"If I'd known this would be the way you'd react to me getting rid of my glasses, I'd have gone for the corrective spell ages ago," Harry murmured, nipping at Draco's neck.

"If I'd known this was the way your adoring public would react, I never would have let you do it," Draco growled.

Harry's laugh turned into a gasp as Draco's palm cupped his erection roughly through his trousers. He pressed forward into the warm heat, letting his head fall forward to rest in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco deftly unzipped his trousers, shoving his hand inside and gripping Harry's cock in his fist.

"Mine," Draco snarled, stroking Harry roughly.

A thrill ran through Harry at the possessive tone. He hadn't enjoyed the added attention his new look had garnered when they'd gone out to the Leaky Cauldron tonight, but he _was_ enjoying Draco's jealousy.

"Close," he warned, his arms pinned too tightly by Draco to allow him to reciprocate.

"Good," Draco answered, shoving Harry backward onto the sofa and straddling him.

Harry rolled slightly, his impending climax coming to a screeching halt when the cushions emitted a loud squeak.

"What the –"

He reached into the cushions, dissolving into laughter when his hand closed around the rubber duck Hugo had lost the week before.

Draco laughed, still breathless from their kisses and the sudden shock of the squeak.

"So, bath?" he asked, leering suggestively.

Harry grinned, tossing the toy over his shoulder and scrambling to his feet.


	18. Innocence

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. They belong to JKR. And the lyrics … not mine either.

Thanks to Roozette for the prompt. *hugs you*

***

**Prompt: Innocence**

"… just look into your heart…"

Draco's lips quirked as he stepped into the steamy greenhouse, the music that had been obscured by the wards that blanketed the structure suddenly blaringly loud.

He was meeting Harry and Neville for lunch, and since his morning appointment at the office had ended early, he'd decided to Apparate over to check out Neville's new place. The newly minted Master Herbologist had been intent on setting up his own rare plant nursery, and Harry and Draco had been eager to invest in the venture. They both knew Neville was brilliant at what he did.

"…be yourself, don't hide …"

Draco bit his lip, stifling a laugh when he spotted Neville, dressed in a casual T-shirt and a pair of worn denims and dancing along to the song. He was spreading some sort of potion over the soil as he moved.

"… just follow your own way …"

Draco leaned against a rough hewn table Neville used for potting plants, heedless of the dirt that was surely marring his dress robes. He was enjoying the show far too much to care.

Neville finished with his task, bringing the empty potion phial up to his mouth to use as a make-shift microphone.

"That's the return to innocence," he sang along, still unaware of Draco's presence. "That's the retuuuurn to innoooooceeeence."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Draco began to clap loudly as the last bars of the song faded. Neville shrieked, glass phial shattering against the stone pavers when he dropped it in surprise.

"Fuck, Draco," Neville hissed, his hand over his racing heart.

"Enya, Neville?" Draco said dryly, arching an eyebrow.

"The plants like it," Neville said defensively. A slow grin spread across his face. "How did you know it was Enya, anyway?"

Draco blushed.


	19. Threesome

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. It should be obvious by the first sentence that I'm not JKR. *coughs*

Thanks to Kamerreon for the prompt. I was going to save this one for later, but Dyson needed some emergency porn.

WARNING: Look at the title of this chapter. *waits patiently*

***

**Prompt: Harry/Draco/Neville threesome**

Neville writhed under the assault of eager hands, his pleas for more having turned to desperate, wordless moans long ago.

Sun-browned hands caressed his nipples, moving in tandem with the blond head bobbing in his lap. Draco's tongue swirled across the sensitive head of Neville's cock, making him cry out breathlessly.

"God, oh god," he gasped, his head lolling back against the pillows as Draco closed his lips around him, encasing his cock in the tight, wet heat of his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked.

Harry chuckled, kissing his way up Neville's neck.

"He has an amazing mouth, doesn't he?" Harry whispered, his breath hot against Neville's ear.

He could only moan in response, the sound muffled by Harry's lips, which captured his in a violent, toe-curling kiss as the first waves of a shattering orgasm overtook him.

Neville woke with a start, his harsh breathing loud in the quiet room. Only teasing tendrils of the dream that had woken him remained, but he knew it had involved both Harry and Draco. And judging from the achingly hard erection he still sported, it must have been an interesting one.

He scrubbed his face with his hand. If Harry and Draco had been in the dream, it was just because they'd met for lunch the day before. Not because – well, it didn't even bear thinking about.

Neville looked down at the tented sheet, his brow furrowed. Had he just had a sex dream about two of his closest friends? Male friends, at that?

His breath caught as the sheet moved against his erection, the jolt of pleasure bringing the memory of Draco's talented tongue sweeping down his length in the dream. He gasped at the surge of arousal that followed, his mind racing. But – he was straight. Wasn't he?


	20. Gingerbread house

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em.

Thanks to MyKissofDeath for the prompt!

***

**Prompt: Gingerbread house**

Draco scowled at Harry, his lip curled into an indignant sneer.

"You can't possibly mean to eat that."

Harry shrugged, popping a piece into his mouth.

"Oh, disgusting. I can't believe you," Draco groaned, covering his eyes.

Draco shook his head, his nose wrinkling at every audible crunch.

"It's food, Draco. It's meant to be eaten."

"It _was_ food," he said, peering at Harry through a gap in his fingers. He winced on a particularly loud crunch, shaking his head. "But that was several weeks ago. It's old. And Merlin only knows what has touched it."

Harry shrugged again, breaking off another piece to eat.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Harry, _just throw it out."_

Harry shook his head.

"That would be wasteful," he said, smirking at the disgusted blond. The truth was, it _didn't_ taste very good, but he'd be damned if he told Draco that.

Harry made a show of licking the icing off the shingle he held, yelping when a sharp edge cut his tongue.

"Ha!" Draco cried, dropping his hands. "See? What did I tell you? It is _not_ edible. Gingerbread houses are decoration, _not_ food."

"Thut up, Dwaco," Harry said, glaring at him as he held his finger over the sore spot on his tongue.

Draco tsked at him, letting Harry struggle to wedge his wand in his own mouth for a healing spell for several minutes before finally helping.

"Sod off," Harry spat as soon as he was able.

Draco grinned, sidling up to him and rubbing against him suggestively.

"I have something else you could put in your mouth if you're still hungry," he purred, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry shoved him off.

"I don't think so," he said, sticking his newly healed tongue out. "It's old, and Merlin only knows what has touched it."


	21. Moist sock

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

The prompt is from Digitallace. Notice I didn't thank her nicely for it, as I have the others. That's because this is a Prompt of Doom and the mere thought of the words makes me … vomit-y. *glares at Digitallace*

That said, go check out her treatment of the same prompt at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5684416/7/A_Dribble_A_Drabble

***

**Prompt:** **Moist sock ***shudders*

"… dreamt of doing _that _with Fleur!" Harry heard Hermione shout the moment he stepped out of the Floo.

Rose had Firecalled him a few minutes ago, which was standard protocol when her parents were in the middle of a blazing row. Now he was there with Draco and Neville, who had shown up at their door unannounced just minutes before Rose's call.

"So what – I should have _lied_?" Ron roared, and Neville flinched at the sound of crockery crashing.

"You should not have sexual dreams about your sister-in-law in the first place!" Hermione screamed back, this time throwing a pot, from the sound of metal clanging against wood.

"I'll take them to Rose's room," Draco said, urging the two wide-eyed children toward the stairs.

Harry nodded, noticing Neville's stricken expression. They hadn't had a chance to talk about why he'd dropped by before Rose's call, but he couldn't worry about that now.

"I can't control who I dream about, Hermione," Ron bellowed.

"You didn't just _dream_ about her, Ronald!" Hermione shrieked. "You woke up covered in –"

Harry snorted, finally understanding the extent of Ron's problem.

"Oi, sure, laugh," Ron snapped at Harry, his arms still crossed tightly across his chest. "Like you've never woken from a dream with a moist c–"

"What's moist mean, Uncle Draco?" Rose piped up, her head tilted inquisitively. Draco shrugged apologetically from the doorway.

"– sock," Ron finished lamely, his anger fizzling.

Harry stifled a laugh, clapping him roughly on the shoulder.

"Best to not address any future problems with … _moist socks_ in front of the children, mate," he snickered.

Hermione glared at both of them, slamming a bottle of milk onto the counter.

"It won't be a problem. His _sock_ won't be moist for a very long time," she spat.


	22. Camel

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I own copies of all the books … does that count? *cries*

Thanks to noel-cullen for the prompt! (And a special shout out to Roozette, who appreciates the value of Dr. Seuss. Even though she refuses to write my name correctly.)

***

**Prompt: Camel**

"Barber, baby, bubbles and a bumblebee–" Draco's brow furrowed as he turned the book over, scowling at the cover. "What _is_ this?"

Rose giggled.

"It's _Dr. Seuss' ABCs_," she said, arching her eyebrow at him in a surprisingly adult manner.

She was turning nine next month, and Draco found it hard to believe that the snarky, sassy little girl in front of him was the same sweet Rosie he'd held in his arms at St. Mungo's the day she'd been born.

"Well, it's ridiculous," Draco said, closing the book and setting it aside. He patted Hugo's leg. "Let's find something else, eh? How about some Beedle the Bard?"

Hugo shrugged miserably. He was covered in itchy spots, unable to do anything but sit propped up in bed and whine.

"No, Hugo likes _that_ book," Rose insisted, picking it back up and shoving it into his hands.

Draco cracked open the spine again.

"Big C, little c, what begins with C? Camel on the ceiling–" he broke off again, sighing heavily. "Seriously?"

Hugo blinked sadly.

Draco hesitated, torn between wanting to appease Hugo and his own desire to read just about _anything_ other than the outlandish Muggle book. But he could rarely deny his niece and nephew anything, and that was doubly true when they were sick. And Hugo looked so tiny tucked into his bed, hands covered in mittens so he couldn't scratch and make his dragon pox worse.

"Fine," he said, briefly mourning the loss of his last shred of dignity as he began to read again.

Rose looked up, exchanging a wink with her Uncle George, who was lurking in the doorway. He'd promised to pay them a Galleon each if they got Uncle Draco to read all the way through and say "zizzer-zazzer-zuzz."


	23. Pudding cups, wonky wrist

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. If I owned them, the epilogue would have been *much* different.

Thanks to Amblurance for the prompt, as well as Roozette, who is still laid up with a wonky wrist. *cries for all the Snarry going unwritten*

***

**Prompt: Pudding cups, wonky wrist**

"Haaaarrrrryyyy," Draco called, his lips tilted into a pout that would have been sexy had Harry not been irritated with him.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"I need your help," Draco said petulantly.

Harry sighed. Draco was being an arse, but he was in pain, so Harry had been trying to make allowances for him. Especially since it was a pair of Harry's shoes sitting on the landing that had caused Draco's fall. Now the blond was laid up on the sofa, his wrist splinted and zoned out on pain potions, making Harry's life a living hell.

"What now, Draco?" Harry asked through gritted teeth, willing himself to be calm. He set aside the mountain of paperwork he'd brought home so he could be there with Draco instead of at the Ministry, his eyes narrowing when he saw what the blond was attempting to do.

"I'm _busy_," he growled. "Do it yourself."

"You know I can't," Draco whined, looking down at his lap forlornly. "Not with my wonky wrist."

"Then go without," Harry snapped, turning a page in the file he was reading with unnecessary force and sending the entire pile to the floor.

Draco waited until he'd picked up the scattered parchment and laid it back on the desk before starting in again.

"But Harry, it's been _two days._ And you know I never like to go more than a day. It makes me cranky."

Harry huffed out a breath, pushing his chair out from the desk and striding across the room. He knelt in front of Draco, ready to berate him for the interruption, but caved when he saw the look on the blond's face.

"Fine," Harry said, holding his hand out. "Give it to me."

Draco grinned, handing him the pudding cup to open.


	24. Spork

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em.

Thanks to Arineat for the prompt.

***

**Prompt: Spork**

"I'm telling you it's unnatural, Harry. It's two things that shouldn't be able to co-exist forced to share the same body," Draco said, eyeing the object of his disdain warily.

"That's rich, coming from a wizard, Draco. There are all sorts of things like that in the wizarding world. Centaurs, for one?"

Draco glared at him, making no move to take it.

"Just use it," Harry said, irritated.

"No. "

Harry sighed, casting a longing glance at his cooling curry before surreptitiously palming his wand, muttering a spell to Transfigure the object into something more acceptable and holding it out to him once more. Draco regarded him coolly, finally taking the proffered item.

He balked when Harry failed to Transfigure his own before digging in to the plate of food in front of him.

"You can't mean to use that-that-that –" he stammered, unable to find the right word in his revulsion. "– that _unholy alliance of utensils_ to eat. It's ridiculous."

Harry rolled his eyes, chewing the bite he'd taken before brandishing the object in question.

"Draco," he said, his voice heavy with exasperation. "It's a _spork."_

***


	25. Pink polkadot ribbon, stuffed lobster

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Thanks to writing bird and DamaskRose for the prompts. *hugs Rose*

Make sure you check the author pages for Digitallace and FaeryQueen07, who are both using the same prompts. Read FaeryQueen07's NCIS Los Angeles themed pink polka-dot ribbon drabble at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5671233/9/

***

**Prompts: Pink polka-dot ribbon, wrapping paper, stuffed lobster**

Ron eyed the innocuous package warily, his wand out in case of trouble. Harry was next to him, brandishing his own wand and incanting spell after spell to check for Dark Magic.

"For fuck's sake," Draco hissed, grabbing the gaily wrapped box. "Would you two knock it off? It's just a present."

Harry shot him an incredulous look.

"Just a present," he echoed, quirking his eyebrow. "Draco, it's from your _parents."_

"Yes," Draco snapped. "They took a liking to Rose and Hugo when they visited, and they wanted to send something for Rose's birthday."

Ron had the grace to blush. He stared at the package for another long moment, finally sighing and pocketing his wand.

"It's just, after –"

"Yes, I _know_ what happened at the Manor," Draco said, cutting Harry off before he could bring up what was now known as the _Undead Puppy Minion Incident_ in the Weasley family, thanks to George. "And it wasn't a _minion._ It was a pet."

Harry stared at the blond, dumbfounded.

"An Inferi puppy was a pet?"

Draco shrugged.

"Mother's allergic to cats."

Ron snorted, brushing past Draco to gather the family. Rose was getting impatient to open her presents, and Hugo was rioting for cake.

"Now?" she asked, glaring in Harry's direction.

"Go ahead, Rosie," Ron said, placing the package on the table in front of her.

All of the adults held their breath as she untied the pink polka-dot ribbon, tearing into the sparkly pink wrapping paper next. Wary glances were exchanged as she pried off the top of the box, along with a collective sigh of relief when she pulled a cuddly stuffed lobster out.

"See?" Draco whispered, shoving Harry. "It's fi–"

He broke off midsentence, eyes widening when the toy began to move.


	26. Tap dancing

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

For FaeryQueen07, who is feeling poorly. Thanks to Ms. Marauder-Cullen for the prompt.

***

**Prompt: Tap dancing**

"Oh," Draco gasped, holding a hand up to his mouth. "Oh Merlin. I think I'm going to be ill."

Harry looked up in concern, peering around the edge of his laptop so he could see Draco.

"Was it dinner?" Harry asked, hoping Draco said no. He was rather attached to the Muggle-run fish and chips shop down the street where they'd eaten a few hours earlier. Draco hated it, and if he had food poisoning, Harry knew there was no way he'd ever get him to go back.

"No," Draco said, his grey eyes looking unusually large against his pale face. "No, it's my computer. I think I have a virus."

Harry snorted, leaning back in his chair and returning to the web chat he'd been having with Dean.

"Draco, we've been over this. I swear, you're as bad as Arthur," he said, laughing as he recounted the conversation for his old friend. Dean loved what they'd come to call Witless Wizard stories about how purebloods interacted with technology.

"I'm serious," Draco said, beginning to look a little green. "My laptop has a virus, and it's making me ill."

Harry sighed, letting Dean know he'd be away from their chat window for a bit and pushing his laptop aside so he could go help his husband.

"Computer viruses _do not_ make you sick," he said condescendingly.

"This one does," Draco muttered, turning his own laptop so Harry could see it.

Harry stared, too horrified by the video of a naked woman that had taken over Draco's screen to look away.

"Oh God," he groaned, feeling his own stomach turn.

"See?" Draco whispered, too disgusted to take much pleasure in being right.

"That's just –" Harry cocked his head, eyes involuntarily riveted on the bouncing breasts. "Is she _tap dancing?"_


	27. Grr, murdery

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. They are the fixation of my unhealthy obsession, but I don't own them.

For Digitallace, who was having a bad day. (PS, don't think this means you get to start offering prompts again. Must I remind you of the Prompt of Doom?)

***

**Prompts: Grrr, murder-y**

***

"Grrrr," the small orange weasel on the counter growled, baring its needle-sharp teeth.

"Alright, you've had your fun. Now change him back," Harry said, grabbing the weasel mid-air as it lunged at Ron. He held the writhing ball of fury away from his body, its sharp claws scratching through the air.

"No!" Ron spat, glaring at the weasel, his hand wrapped so tightly around his wand that his knuckles were white.

"I think it's an improvement," Draco smirked.

"All you had to do was apologize," Harry said sternly, holding the squirming weasel up so he could look it in its beady eyes. "But no, you couldn't even show the slightest remorse, could you?"

Neville made a disgusted sound, and Harry lowered the weasel, turning to him.

"Why are _you_ involved in this, anyway? I thought Ron was the only one George dosed with Delicious Dreams," Harry said, looking at him quizzically.

Neville blushed, recalling the dream the potion had inspired. It was the newest Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product, guaranteed to make the imbiber have an erotic dream about the last person – or, in his case, persons – they saw after drinking it. George had slipped it into his beer after he, Harry and Draco had met up with the redhead for drinks after their lunch a few weeks ago.

"Whose spell was this, anyway?" Harry asked, waving the still-flailing weasel slightly.

"Mine," Neville said, his dark eyes flashing. "He's lucky I didn't do worse."

"I've never seen you all murder-y before," Draco said, giving the tall wizard an appreciative glance. "It's kind of hot. Though it makes me wonder what _you_ dreamt about."

Neville groaned, letting his head fall forward against the counter with a loud thump.


	28. Shark bait

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

Thanks to Ms. Marauder-Cullen for the prompt. Go check out my partners in crime, FaeryQueen07 and Digitallace, for more drabble-y fun.

If you haven't already, make sure to go back and read the last two drabbles – Tap dancing and Grr, Murdery. I posted them yesterday when was being a bitch about alerts, so no notices went out.

***

**Prompt: Shark bait**

Harry flinched when Draco's fingers dug into the tender flesh of his thigh, the pinch smarting even through his denims.

"What the fuck?" he asked, rubbing at the now-throbbing skin.

"Don't 'what the fuck' me, Potter," Draco spat, sitting back in his chair with a huff. "I saw that look."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What look?"

Draco snorted, taking a sip from his goblet of water before responding. He nodded at a table a few down from theirs, where a trio of Muggle teenage boys were laughing and shoving at each other.

"I saw the way you looked at that shark bait," Draco sniffed, jabbing at his pasta with unnecessary force.

"That _what?_" Harry laughed, craning his neck so he could see the teenagers.

"Don't try to change the subject," Draco hissed, so caught up in his anger that he was absentmindedly gesturing with his fork. He scowled at the fettuccine, dropping the fork back against his plate with a clatter.

"I'm not," Harry said, wiping at the sauce that had splattered onto the tablecloth. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

Draco made a disgusted noise.

"You were ogling that _child_," he hissed, nodding toward the teenagers. "Which is not only _disgusting _but also _illegal._"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't looking at _him_," Harry said, exasperated. "I was trying to read the dessert specials on the board over his shoulder!"

Draco's cheeks pinked a bit, and he picked up his fork, chagrined.

"Well, good."

"Besides, the word is _jail bait_," Harry said, snickering. "But now that you mention it, he _is_ rather delicious, isn't he?"

Draco choked on the bite of pasta he'd just taken, his grey eyes shooting daggers at Harry.

"Kidding," Harry said, holding his hands up. "Kidding."


	29. IKEA, plunder

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own them.

Thanks to A for the prompt, as well as FaeryQueen07 who threw one in, too.

***

**Prompts: IKEA and plunder**

"_Please_ put some of that back. I'm begging you."

Draco ignored him, ramming the over-loaded blue plastic cart into yet another display, this time sending an avalanche of tiny tea candles to the floor.

"God – _Draco_!"Harry growled at him, crawling across the floor in pursuit of the rolling candles.

But the blond was already halfway down the next aisle, tugging an oval mirror out of the hands of a teenage girl.

"I saw it first!" Draco cried, finally succeeding in wresting it away from the girl, who had quickly been joined by her mother.

"Terribly sorry," Harry cried as he raced up, breathless. He grabbed the mirror, glaring at Draco until the blond relinquished it. "Please, ma'am, take it."

The mother huffed angrily but nodded, taking the proffered mirror and placing it in her own over-filled cart before herding her daughter down the aisle.

"This is a _store_. Not some Viking village to plunder," Harry hissed, turning his attention to the sulking blond.

"That would have been perfect in the dining room," Draco said, crossing his arms.

"For God's sake, Draco, it was a £20 mirror in a tacky plastic frame!"

"It was £17," Draco sniffed, his anger almost instantly forgotten when he saw a sign advertising pillows for £4.99.

"Draco!" Harry growled, yanking the pillows out of Draco's arms and stuffing them back on the shelf. "Our sheets are fairy-woven Egyptian cotton. Last week you sent back your brandy because it wasn't served in real leaded crystal. The shoes you are wearing cost more than everything in this aisle put together. You. Will. Not. Use. Any. Of. This. Crap."

Draco pouted, grey eyes taking inventory of the bounty in the cart.

"But Harry," he said, hands darting out to reclaim the pillows. "It's IKEA."


	30. Brokeback Mountain, Cary Grant, et al

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. They belong to JKR.

Thanks to Rani Hindustani for the prompts. *loves*

The only warning for this one is offensive gay stereotypes. I couldn't help myself. *hides behind prompts* (Er, and thanks to the readers who pointed out that I was mixing up Cary Grant and Clark Gable ... oopsie. Fixed now.)

***

**Prompts: Alec Mapa, Logo Channel, Cary Grant, **_**Glee**_**, **_**Brokeback Mountain**_

"Jesus, Draco. Way to be subtle," Harry groaned as he walked into the sitting room. "He's going to kill me."

"He's going to _thank_ you for helping him come to terms with this," Draco said archly, digging under the sofa for the latest issue of _Boys and Their Wands _and placing it on the table next to stack of DVDs topped by _Brokeback Mountain_.

"No," Harry said, grimacing when he noticed the stack of self-help books Draco had arranged next to the wingback chair. "He's definitely going to kill me. I should never have told you."

Draco ignored him, grabbing the television remote and surfing until he found the Logo Channel.

"Him telling you about that dream was a cry for help," Draco said, shaking his head.

"He only told me about the dream because he was angry that I stopped him from casting an irreversible curse against George," Harry muttered, kicking the racy magazine back under the sofa when Draco wasn't looking. He had no time to do anymore damage control, though, because Neville chose that moment to step through the Floo, right on time for their monthly film night.

Four hours later, the sitting room was a mess of DVD cases and take-out containers. Draco's features were twisted into a determined expression, which contrasted nicely with the looks of desperation and boredom Neville and Harry, respectively, wore.

"OK, Cary Grant," Draco said, fast-forwarding through _An Affair to Remember_.

"Urg, no," Neville said, wrinkling his nose.

"Maybe he's not your type. Alec Mapa?" he switched DVDs, zipping through _You Don't Mess with the Zohan_ until he found the petite Filipino man.

"Draco, please," Harry groaned from his place sprawled on the sofa. "Neville's straight."

"Wait, I know!" Draco cried triumphantly. "The first season of _Glee_!"


	31. Clown, shadow, motel room

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I own nothing.

Thanks to Avana65 for the prompts. (And for winning my services in the Help_Haiti auction as well! Since me finishing that sucker by the Sunday deadline seems … unlikely … here's a drabble for you while you wait. *hugs*)

***

**Prompts: Clown, shadow, motel room**

"I don't see why we have to stay in this –" Draco trailed off, looking around the room. It was small, but as far as Harry could tell, clean. "– _place_."

"It's a motel room, not a truck stop toilet, Draco," Harry muttered, flopping down on top of the polyester duvet and shielding his eyes against the harsh fluorescent light.

While it was true that the motel was a bit threadbare, it was perfectly serviceable. And it was the best Molly and Arthur could afford, since they'd insisted on footing the bill for the entire wedding party. Ginny's desire to get married in Majorca had stretched their budget, but the proud parents had refused Harry's offer to help.

"It's only for one night." Harry closed his eyes, exhausted after their turbulent Portkey trip.

"Two nights," Draco corrected.

"One night," Harry said, opening one eye to look at Draco. "I booked us into the Four Seasons for tomorrow. Figured no one would notice if we didn't come back here after the wedding."

Draco grinned, his annoyance forgotten as he straddled the dark-haired man, who responded instantly. Harry groaned as teeth scraped against his neck, angling his head to give Draco better access. When he opened his eyes, though, he saw something that made his arousal grind to a halt. He sat up abruptly, dislodging Draco.

"Clown," Harry whispered in horror, looking at the painting that hung over the bed.

Draco followed his gaze, grabbing his wand and obscuring the painting with a sheet. He looked back at Harry, who was staring at where the clown had been, his face shadowed with unease. He grinned, picking up Harry's cell phone, scrolling through previously dialed numbers.

"Is this the Four Seasons? Excellent. I need to add a night to a reservation."


	32. Words that start with P

***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em.

Thanks to Kate for the prompt. I went above and beyond on this one … *snickers*

***

**Prompt: 5 words starting with P **

"Potter!"

Harry winced, drawing his head back out of the flames. His hurried consultation with George had not gone well.

"Don't panic," Harry cautioned.

"PANIC?" Draco roared, his already flushed face darkening with rage.

"He doesn't have the antidote on hand. He can brew some, but it will take a few hours."

Draco's jaw tightened as he struggled to express himself, his frustration growing as the seconds ticked by.

"Pourquoi?"

Harry's brow furrowed. He was having the damndest time understanding Draco, which was only adding to the blond's fury.

"Can't you write it down?"

"Prohibited," Draco snapped, taking a French-English dictionary off the shelf and hurling it at Harry. He looked at him expectantly. "Postponed? _Pourquoi_?"

Harry thumbed through the book. "Oh, why? Um, because he doesn't have all the ingredients on hand."

"Purchase!"

Harry bit his lip, not following.

"_Purchase_, Potter!" Draco insisted, gesticulating wildly. "Procure promptly!"

"Er, oh! You want _me_ to go buy the ingredients?"

"Please."

"I can't. Something about one of the components being part of a restricted class. George says he'll have to file paperwork with the Ministry to get it."

"Perfect," Draco groaned, collapsing on the sofa.

"You're sure you can't write?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa, his hand resting comfortingly against Draco's leg.

"Positive."

Harry stroked his thigh, massaging small circles against the taut muscle underneath the soft wool.

"I wish there was something I could for you, Draco."

"Pity," Draco said, looking dejected.

"I do," Harry answered, squeezing his leg. "But you should have known better than to take a sweet from George."

Draco pursed his lips, seemingly torn between a scowl and a smirk.

"Progeny."

"Which one?" Harry laughed.

"Petal."

"Rose gave you the Alphabet Pop, eh? Was it at least tasty?"

Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Pumpkin."


End file.
